Fine Tuning
by WaddleBuff
Summary: A new resident of Rush Valley, Winry Rockbell takes a liking to you and your automail arm, and she offers to service it. You return the favor by servicing her. [Winry x Reader, Heavy Smut]


_fuck tenses, tbh_

 _also DM or email me at w4ddlebuff gmail if you want a commission or request._

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Winry Rockbell always was enthusiastic.

Her passion brimmed over and bubbled all over her body every time she stopped by your shop. You didn't have the greatest of automail; just improved prototypes of abandoned projects left by your deceased mentor. Regardless, she fawned over every last piece of scrap, fawning over subtle intricacies that even you had never noticed before.

It was easy to see why the rest of Rush Valley had fallen in love with her, giving her offers and discounts on goods, invitations to geek out over latest models. She was a veritable bundle of energy, of joy, of youth and vitality. There was a flame in Winry's eyes that shone infectiously every time she walked into your shop. She would dig through piles upon piles of you and your mentor's handiwork, shooting you her dazzling blue eyes with a wide unabashed grin, uncaring of how grimy her fingers would get.

But it was your automail arm, affixed to your left shoulder and composed of mostly chrome, was what fascinated her most. Yet another relic of the man who took you in off the street.

She always remarked on how impossible it was, how most automail mechanics today wouldn't even dare to try and create automail with this much chrome material, how beautiful its latticework shined, and how it still worked so well without any major part replacement. It wasn't uncommon that you'd let her sit beside you, running her fingers through the handiwork of your mentor. You watched as her brows would furrow in deep concentration and lips moving in mumbling murmurs on how to improve it.

As she beheld the supposed beauty of your arm, it was hard for you not to appreciate the beauty of her. Your eyes wandered and wandered heartily, running along the way her neck sloped elegantly down to her collarbones, how her eyes shone more vibrantly than silver of her earrings, how the fringes of her blonde swayed ever-so-subtly against her brow.

In due time, her fascination prompted her to ask if she could work on your arm with you, giving it improvements whilst keeping it true to the overall base design of your mentor's. Of course, you wholeheartedly agreed.

In the following weeks, she sat next to you on the cot next to your shop's worktable, and both of you would mumble and strain your eyes and tinker. Your hands would be covered in oil, soot, grime, but at the end of each session, some of them ending with the twinkle of dawn, she'd smile with a lustre that you were sure wouldn't ever die.

Yes, Winry Rockbell was always enthusiastic.

You just never expected for her kisses to be the same.

It was an act of impulse on your part. The weeks of sitting next to her, letting her skin press against your shirtless chest, feeling her breath, watching the swell of her breasts straining against her tank top, smelling the sweet musk of her sweat, you couldn't help yourself. Not when those lips looked that soft in the dim lamplight, how her skin looked so smooth, unblemished.

And top of it all, she always looked…lonely. Her eyes, when they weren't latching deep hooks into the lattices of your arm, looked distant. As if thinking of someplace else, of _someone_ else. You knew that feeling well.

You needed to let her know that here, in your workshop, she wasn't alone.

She froze with surprise when you did it. Shock. Maybe disgust? Maybe horror? You pulled back and felt all the heat inside you dissipate, seeing her blue eyes wide and trembling. An apology readied on your lips, and guilty slowly began to pile onto your chest, brick by brick.

But before you could stand and distance yourself, her arms coiled around yours, skin against chrome.

The trembling eyes grew warmer, and you saw the darkness of want.

She pulled you in close, and your lips melded together once more. And then again, and again. And the heat inside you returned, full force.

It was obvious she wasn't experienced in this. You were probably the first person she's ever kissed.

But she pushed on all the same, planting kisses with eyes shut with that very familiar furrow of her brow.

For the first time you felt what her hands felt like on your skin as she tentatively ran it across your chest, fingers hooking onto your right shoulder. The kisses grew sloppier, and she needed guidance, so your left arm hooked her in at the waist, your right reaching over to cup the curve of her neck.

She let out a soft sigh, and you felt her other hand on your cheek, trembling as it runs down your neck.

She tasted as sweet as you imagined. Her thin lips felt like a perfect fit for your own.

It didn't take long until your tongue couldn't hold itself back anymore, and you pushed it forward, letting Winry feel its heat first. As expected there was a small jolt in her body, but eventually you felt her mouth widen slightly, and your tongue met hers.

She let out a confused mewl, unable to think of how to react. But you guided her, putting the lightest of pressure on the back of her head, her automail arm giving the perfectly-reassuring squeeze, and your tongue slipping over hers in gentle laps. Instinct gave way to caution, and her mouth opened wider, and her tongue grew more bold

Soon you shared kisses that smacked wetly, and loudly, tongues coiling as your lips mashed together in sloppy, lustful embraces. She was a quick learner, a facet most definitely rooted in her unbound enthusiasm.

Both of her hands ran through your hair, her chest pressing against your automail as she huffed through her nose. You heard her groan for the first time when you let your right hand slip from her neck down to the smooth skin of her arms, running up and down, feeling her goosebumps settle beneath your touch. Your mouths unlinked for the first time in minutes, and you shared deep pants.

Her eyes, usually blue with the twinkle that outsone your chrome, were dark. Her lips shone with spittle, and a string of saliva lazily dripped down onto her chin. Her tongue looked unusually-empty.

You remedied that quickly, and Winry's hands dug deep into your scalp. The wet embrace of her mouth was intoxicating, and for the first time you took advantage of her inexperience, lashing between her cheeks, shifting your lips in ways that made Winry whimper.

The hand at her arm found itself on her breast, and for the first time, you heard… _felt_ her moan. You expected some resistance. Making out with her had taken on a fast pace, sure, but petting was a different base entirely. Nevertheless, you gave an affectionate squeeze, and Winry only replied by pressing herself closer against you.

To your pleasant surprise, you felt something harden against the cotton of her tank top. Another squeeze confirmed it: Winry wasn't wearing a bra, and her teats were as hard as your right arm. You smiled into your kiss, and gave a hard squeeze, harder than the scouting gropes you had given before.

Winry squealed, and you had to part from her mouth for a moment, letting her catch her breath. Blush tinted her cheeks pink, and from the way her fingers kept digging ever-harder into your skin, it was obvious she was becoming overwhelmed.

But once again, she proved herself to adapt quickly, and returned with sloppy, wet kisses, saliva leaking between your conjoined lips, allowing your hand to squeeze and grope and feel as hard and as much as you wanted to.

You felt the tension in her body melt. She didn't need to tell you in words: Winry was giving you free reign.

And as your hand slipped under that tank top of hers, you were going to fully capitalize on that.

The heat of her flat stomach sparked against your fingertips. You felt her flinch a bit before settling into your touch. You pressed your palm flat against her skin. How hot it was. The automail arm at her waist pulled her in ever closer, letting her leg press against yours as that palm of yours skimmed up, up, up, until the tips of your fingers kissed the swell of her chest.

You teased her a bit. Letting the pads of your fingertips prod, you poked and nudged at her tit, digging a little into her softness, moving your hand up slowly, slowly. You felt the pebbly peak of her nipple, and your fingers slowly went around it, engaging her breast in your comparably-large hand. Then, you let loose a gentle squeeze. The vigor in her current kiss faded a bit as she exhaled deep. You squeezed again, this time putting more pressure on her chest.

She is squirming by the point you decide to finally give attention to the teat between your fingers. You first ran your thumb over it, satisfied at her breathy exhale into your mouth. Then, you started running circles on it, before finally starting to pinch, synchronizing it with ruthless squeezes. Winry's mouth tore away from yours as her head lulled back, and for the first time that night, let out a long, sultry moan.

You felt the heat inside you burn ever-fiercer at the sight, and your mouth instantly latched onto her expose neck, tongue eagerly sweeping up her taste. Your hand continued its tactile praise of her budding breast, but soon the confining strain of her shirt proved too meddlesome. In a deft swipe of your automail, you yank it upwards, letting her breasts bounce free. With the shirt bundled around her neck, your hand was now free to fondle and grope and squeeze to your heart's content.

As you suckled her collarbone, letting your teeth nip as the want of her nubile body grew, your control faded. Both of her breasts, warm and plump like ripe fruit, became well-acquainted with your touch in the matter of minutes. Winry's grip on you slackened as she became overwhelmed by the sensations you gave her, and she could only shiver and let out gasps of utter bliss when your wandering lips finally latched around the blossoming pink of her nipple.

Your tongue lathered it in lust, your lips eagerly suckling her chest, moving from one breast to another in a frenzy. Your automail arm kept her supported as her body struggled to keep itself upright, especially when your right hand was now caressing the skin of her inner thigh, stroking up and down, feeling up just how shapely she was under her skirt.

The taste of her skin was addicting, the heat rolling off her teenage body intoxicating, and you would have kept going if it wasn't for the raging beast that threatened to rip through your cargo pants. At this rate, you'd blow your load then and there, and as much as you enjoyed tasting Winry, you knew that it'd feel ten times as good if you were fucking her.

She reminded you of the main event when, to your shock, one of her hands found its way to your crotch. Her fingers were as inexperienced as her lips, and she fumbled around before deining to just stroke, up and down, up and down against the straining fabric.

You pull back from her chest. She looked at you with pleading eyes now, and you realize that her other hand was on the right wrist, squeezing with a dead man's grip. She bit her lip, and with what strength she had, pulled, making the hand on her leg slip under her skirt. With her guidance, you feel the heat exuding from inside, and soon, feel the moistness of her core.

Again, no words, and you accept her invitation. You start rubbing her through her panties, feeling her grip tighten even further. She looks into your eyes, her dark, dark pupils wet as she bit down hard on her lip. The hand at your crotch persevered, but you could tell that the hand between her legs was driving her wild.

A minute passed, and you take the liberty to slip her panties aside, and feel just how wet she was firsthand.

She squealed, letting out a shuddering breath as she nearly doubled over. She was sensitive, and utterly horny. You pushed on, rubbing the slick outer folds of her pussy, feeling the clit that was already swollen and pulsing at its apex. You didn't dare push inside of her just yet; the way she leaned into you for support was more than enough to let you know that even just this much stimulation was making the girl overwhelmed.

But eventually as you kept slipping your fingers over her heat, Winry's trembling stopped, and her shuddering gasps were replaced with moans.

A few more minutes of this, and you are suddenly aware of just how _hard_ you are.

She squeezed onto your crotch and that was the cue: you needed more.

You withdrew your hand from beneath her skirt, meeting her inquisitive eyes as her breaths still came out in heavy and hot exhales.

You asked if it was okay to keep going. It was obvious this was her first time.

"Please," she said. "Let's keep going."

She probably expected you to take you then and there. But no, with the way she was looking at you, and how close you were to ripping your pants off and shoving it past her lips, you knew you needed to relocate to somewhere with a little more space, lest you break the cot.

With one swoop of your automail arm, you left Winry up. She yelped at the motion, clinging to your neck as you stomped your way across the room to the worktable. A shower of metal clattered to the floor moments later after your arm sweeped the table clean. Satisfied, you sit Winry on the steel table. She looked at you, dazed, but you didn't allow a single moment further for her lips to be unkissed.

There was no concern for the pace anymore. You wanted her, and you were going to get her.

A few seconds of lashing your tongue between her cheeks, and you push her down onto the table. You hear her gasp at the sudden impact, and then hear that sweet mewl as your mouth begins another journey from the starting point of her neck.

Down, down, down you begin lathering her skin with your tongue. You breathe in deep, tasting all the leftover remnants of her sweat, proof of her efforts from the past few hours working on your arm. It was only right for you to now to show your gratitude.

You forced her arms up above her head, delighting into the protesting squirms and subsequent groans when that mouth of yours found itself in her armpit, relishing in the collected aroma, in the raw taste of her flavor.

The fire in your groin prevented your appreciation to take up any further time, and soon you're down at her breasts again, then you're slithering down to her ribs, taking several moments to appreciate the toned flatness of her belly.

At this point, your hands found themselves at her knees. You gently spread them apart, and you knew without looking that the girl was blushing. Standing up again, you gaze upon Winry's form.

She's gasping, one of her thumbs between her teeth, her face red. Her skin glistened with small beads of sweat, and several long trails of your own spittle. But what surprised you was the large black splotches that were now printed all over her skin; on her neck, her wrists, her breasts, the curve of her waist. It took you a moment to realize that your hands, automail and flesh, were both still grimy with oil and soot from the work you both had done. One inspection and Winry's own fingers and you knew that you looked just as splotched too.

But it was no matter; the spots of black merely accentuated the silkiness of Winry's skin, and you liked the idea that you were marking her as yours.

With your automail, you tore her skirt off like sheet paper. Instinctively Winry' tried to close up her legs, but your face was already buried in her crotch. You take several .deep whiffs of her snatch through her panties, reveling in the rawness of her scent, before that too is ripped asunder, joining the skirt at your feet.

You take just a single moment to behold Winry's folds, how they glistened with slick arousal, how fine the blonde hairs of her muff lined up around her vulva.

Then, without anymore delay, you feast.

Her hands are both in your hair now, and instantly felt her hips rise up off the table, bucking into your face as your tongue mercilessly dug inside of her folds. It was probably such an alien sensation, having such a slick, hot muscle dig deep inside of her like that, but you didn't care. All you cared about was how she tasted, and how her entire body was under the whim of every single swipe of your tongue.

Your hands gripped her thighs, clutching them tight. You felt the heels of her little boots dig into your back as she crossed her ankles, locking tight around you to push you deeper and deeper into her core.

You loved every moan and whimper and squeal that came from her lips, and you felt your hardness utterly pulse with anticipation. She was _tight_. Even with just your tongue you could feel how her inner flesh pulled and asphyxiated, and the notion that this sensation would soon be around your cock galvanized you to no end.

It was apparent that Winry was close to her peak; her voice was replaced by shuddering gasps, raspy exhales that choked and hiccuped on the very air that she breathed.

You pushed her near the edge, feeling her contract, feeling her folds began to pulse harder, her hips rising off the table. Your tongue slithered out of her, and your lips began suckling on the swollen bud of her clit as if it were the ripest of fruit. Winry nearly screamed.

But right before the last push, you withdrew completely, several sticky strands of her arousal following your mouth.

Winry protested, and her face was one of desperation, strands of the blonde fringes framing her face stuck to her cheeks with sweat.

You would give her a finish. You were not cruel.

You just wanted to give the beautiful girl a finish that she deserved.

So as leaned over her, stuffing her mouth with your tongue once more, the automail hand that she so adored, that she had poured so much effort into, slid up her thigh, and two of its fingers shoved themselves to the outermost knuckle inside of her.

Winry squealed into your mouth, and you only kept kissing her, kept pumping your automail inside of her over and over and over, pistoning and curling your finger, meeting the upwards thrusts of her desperate hips.

Her peak came in a tumultuous series of waves. You had to break free from her mouth as her entire body arched, undulating and thrashing as she came all over the chrome of your fingers. You desperately wished at that moment that you still had your real hand, so you could feel the sticky spurts that shot out of the teen as she let out silent screams of bliss, tears trickling from her eyes as one orgasm crashed into another, all whilst your automail constantly wriggled inside her in a coaxing circular motion.

It took a minute or two for Winry to finally settle down, mewling in a sweaty hot mess on the work table.

You withdrew your fingers.

And without a moment's hesitation, ripped your trousers button off. The fabric crumpled to the ground, soon joined with your briefs, your cock springing free in the air, pulsing, hungry, almost blue. You hiss at just how hard you are, eyes devouring every inch of Winry's naked body as she still caught her breath.

At this height, your crotch was perfectly aligned with hers, and carefully, you slid your cock on top of her pussy. She gasps at the sensation, energy returning to her as she beheld the size of you. You push forward, hands on her waist until her ass kisses your balls.

Your cock extended far enough to almost kiss her bellybutton. You let your meat sit there, pulsing, dripping pre onto her belly, letting Winry sit up and look at it, eyes full of trepidation and wonder.

But both of you knew by now that your patience was thin.

You let out a few practice thrusts, gliding your veiny meat over the slickness of her eager cunt, feeling her clit kiss you in desperate pulses. Pre dribbled in thin strings over her navel, and you couldn't wait to see how it would feel to be that deep inside of her.

A bit of consideration slips through your lust, and you silently ask one last time if it was really okay to go forward with this, to indulge in everything her tight young body had to offer.

Winry looked back up at you, black prints from your hands still on her skin. Her answer was reaching high above her head, and gripping tight to the other end of the worktable. You felt her legs go slack, spreading wide.

She was ready.

You pull back, careful in your aim. As hard as your prick pulsed, you didn't want to slip out.

With your automail arm keeping her steady beneath the pit of her knee, your other hand gripped the base of your hardness, firm. You found yourself gritting your teeth as your hips began to push forward towards that impossible tightness, towards the leaking petals that tasted so hot and sweet against your throat.

You hiss, and she mewled the moment your cockhead pushed against her entrance. You see her skin bristle with gooseflesh, but you can't stop. An inch slips inside. You see her young pussy part open for you, accepting your girth. Another inch, and another. Your hands both darted to her hips now as a quarter of your cock is lodged into Winry's cunt. You've had your fair share of women, but this…this was proving to be a challenge.

Your fingers would probably leave welts with how tight they gripped her waist. Another few inches, and you pause again. You let yourself just throb inside her, pulse, feeling her maidenhood adjust itself to you. You see her let out deep breaths as her head lulls from side to side, eyes shut tight, blonde disheveled and spread out beneath her. Her chest heaves, her stomach contracts, and you can even see the considerable bulge of your swollen meat imprinting the skin around Winry's crotch.

Another wanton pulse, and you bite the bullet. A groan shot from your throat as your hips shoved themselves forward. Once again you felt Winry's perky ass press against your balls, feel her thighs press satisfyingly against your waist. You found yourself panting. Winry is letting out a long and strange nasal noise, and you feel her every breath around your cock, how her body adjusts to your full length shoved deep inside her guts.

You let another moment go by, syncing yourself deep inside this young girl, letting her catch her breath before another pull of your hips and subsequent snap back inside of her stole it away again. And again. And again.

You're wary not to pull out too much. Every inch out and back was torture enough as it is. With your grip around her waist still vise-like, you continue, dragging her light frame on top of the table, synchronizing the pumping with the cycling of your hips.

You could feel the viscousness of her lust begin to dribble down onto your balls as she got wetter, and subsequently easier to thrust into. It took some time but eventually her skin began to slap against yours, a rhythm established, accentuated by eager groans upon every impact.

Most of your effort at this point was to concentrate on not pumping her full of your lust and there. It was no help that as the sex continued, Winry would begin to swing her own hips in tandem with yours, letting out louder moans as the smacking of your kissing skin grew faster, more intense.

But it soon proved impossible to fight back against the coming tide. Not when she was enjoying it as much as you, her back arched up towards the ceiling of your workship, sweat trickling down her tight stomach as she pushed out her ribs, black marks of soot and oil still stubbornly highlighting the fertile plumpness of her shaking breasts, her wide hips, her smooth arms.

She came with a succession of breathless hiccups. Her hips would jerk up and down in violent convulsions as she gasped, knuckles turning white as she tried anchoring herself, cumming thick, sticky strings of quim. You would continue to thrust, your desperate groans joining hers as her inner flesh grew more taut than ever, pulsing, pulsing around you in livid heat.

Sweat poured down your chest too as your thrusts became drives. You didn't care about how much you pulled back or pushed in anymore, all you cared about was fucking tight, young Winry Rockbell into your worktable, and cumming inside of her tight, young, teenage pussy.

She was wailing now as she came for the fourth or fifth time. You weren't keeping track, and with how she was going wild, drool staining the sides of her cheeks while you continued stuffing her with all of your strength, you knew she wasn't either.

Smack. _Smack._ _ **Smack**_.

No more control, and your teeth were turning into dust. You watched as each heave of your body into hers rippled throughout her entire frame, watching as her quim splashed and squirted all over the insides of her thighs.

You could have heard the metal clatter of more abandoned tools and automail clattering to the floor, you could have heard how pathetically desperate your groans were becoming, how primal your grunts were as you gave it to her, how loudly the squelches of your cock reaming her choking folds echoed in your workshop, but all you could hear in that moment was Winry hiccuping your name, pleading, begging you as her wet eyes looked up at you, lips agape in wanton moans that made her sound more like a woman than the girl she was.

You didn't hear much else then, and with one last drive as deep as you could go inside of her, your legs rooted themselves to the floor, and you felt your balls clench tighter than the grip on her waist.

You came until you saw spots. You _watched_ yourself cum, empty yourself inside her in thick barreling spurts of spunk until that spunk would bubble out of her. You saw yourself let a string of drool leak down onto her body, joining the sticky mess that was already spilling and splashing all over the skin that you couldn't get enough of.

Again and again your prick pulsed in a vicious succession of spurts. You could only wheeze as Winry came with you, squeezing, coaxing, _choking_ one rope of potent cum after another, her body a hot sleeve of flesh that thirsted for everything your balls could pump out.

It wasn't long until your seed began to tumble out of her pussy in thick, flowing streams, staining your worktable on their way to cascade onto the floor. Breathlessly you tilt your head back, letting out incoherent gibberish, feeling her body coax out more of your cum until finally, the streams of sticky goo shoot more slowly, until the final shot signals the end of your peak in a potent rope of white.

That's all you could see for the next for moments. White. It took time to regain a regular breathing pattern but eventually you come to, blinking away sweat from your brow and taking a look at your handiwork.

Winry has her forearms crossed atop her face. She's panting still, lips glistening along with the rest of her sweaty skin. Traces of the oil and soot are in trickling trails of black, down to the waist you still gripped. With a sharp intake of breath you pull out of her. It's still a tight fit, and a slick pop resounds, her pussy uncorked, letting a torrent of your cum spilling out of her pinkness like thick cream.

You gulped at the sight, dismayed that even after the most earth-shattering climax of your life, you had the nerve (and stamina) to get hard again.

But concern weasled its way into your deadened nerves, and you lean over Winry, supporting yourself on your automail arm as you hover over her face. You're scared that once she pulls the mask of her arms away, you'd find tears.

Instead, once she feels the heat of your breath on her nose, she gives you a weak grin. Moving aside her arms, her eyes gleam just as brightly as they did the first day she pranced into your shop, and before you know it, your lips met in a slow but passionate exchange, uncaring of technique or pace, just happy your mouths could embrace, your tongues could tousle.

Your kisses continued in their wet slow dance after you sat her up on the edge of the table. Her hands are wandering the muscle of your back, smoothing down the wet sinews of your bicep, the firmness of your stomach. But most of all, of course, as your own hands traced down the line of her perspiring back, and gently fondled the warmth of her breast, Winry's tactile attention found itself on your automail arm.

Again you desperately wished that you could somehow attach more nerve endings into that damned piece of chrome, maybe ask some alchemist to give those wires and pistons and gears some sort of _feeling_.

But this would have to do.

The kisses began to deepen again, and you felt the familiar heat rise in your groin, heard the familiar gasps from her lips. She was getting the feeling again too.

You made her lift her arms high, and you separate for a moment, grabbing the wet rag of her tank top, stripping her of the last piece of fabric separating your skins from melding together fully. Her nipples kissed your chest in the perfect way, just as her thighs smoothly glided against your sides.

She let another grin curl on her lips, this one full of mature mischievousness. The source was painfully clear: you were already as excited as you were at the beginning of all this, and the bulb of your cockhead was pressing against her taut stomach. A stomach that she ever-so-slightly began to move, undulating in taunting, torturous inches, wetly dragging across your urethra.

In return, you dragged your automail across her thigh, wiping beads of sweat before finding the leaking crevice of her cunt. No hesitation, and in a quick curl, you're inside her, making that stomach of hers undulate in more inches, making the grin disappear, and her teeth grit as you coaxed sticky wads of your previous load out of her to plop onto the floor.

Winry managed a grin.

"No fair…"

You respond with your tongue, and everything is set into motion.

Only a minute of fingering her, of your tongues wrestling in wanton exchanges of spit, and you withdraw, right as her dainty fingers began to pump your prick, eager to push you to the edge as much as you were pushing her.

She was right. It wasn't fair to tease when both of you were so eager to get right back into the heat once more. You forgot that the girl was a quick learner.

You take a step back, watching as she heaved, long strands of her blonde laying on her breast, the roots of her ponytail slightly frayed in the dim tungsten of your shop. Her nipples contrasted the paleness of her skin in a way that made you gulp, a lump in your throat that only grew bigger at the sight of how individual beads of sweat ran down invisible grooves down the curves of her young, supple body.

She looked at you expectantly, and with a bite of her lip, started to make the move to play with herself.

You didn't give her a chance.

Stepping out of the heap of your cargo pants, you grab her by the waist. She squeaked a bit at the deft motion, but found herself on her feet just fine. You tell her in a whisper that you were going to fuck her again, and she gave you a coy nod. A chaste kiss.

Then you turn her away from you, pushing her roughly against your work table. She grunted at the action, but you grab her arms, placing them in your hair. She found her hold immediately, and you guide her chin over her shoulder, her lips to yours. Strands of your spittle fell wetly onto her shoulder, but your mouths were too eager to care at this point.

You ran your hands down the entire front of her sweaty frame, feeling her breasts slip perkily between your fingers, feeling the indentation of her ribs, the subtle muscle of her belly, the developing flare of her hips. Then you take your real hand, and stuff a few fingers inside of her, slowly coaxing out the sticky gobs of white that you were about to fill her with once more.

She groaned in desperate growls into your tongue, mixing them with open-mouthed exclamations of surprise when you find the groove of her asscheeks, and begin to run your wet cock between them in slow, moderately-alleviating rolls of your hips.

In due time, both of you were panting, mouths separated, eyes peering deep into one another in pleas of want. She was tightening up around your fingers in ways that made you salivate. Your tongue slathered the base of her neck to compensate, tastebuds tingling at the flavor of her sweat. You breathed in deep, and in a primal display of lust, bit into her bare shoulder.

It was time.

With a gentle push, you made Winry prop herself on the work table with her arms. There was trepidation in the way she followed your guidance, hesitation in letting go of your hair. But you gave her one last reassuring kiss, and now Winry looked back over her shoulder with one of her eyes, a horny blush on her cheeks, her legs spread apart with the coaxing of your feet. You could hear long strings of your spunk still leaking from her pussy to the floor. She was probably almost completely drained by now, and you were more than eager to give her a nice, hot refill.

Sweat raced down the groove of her spine, and you could see the perspiration pooling right above her ass. You took a moment to appreciate the long slope of her skin, running your bare human hand over her glistening white skin as your automail arm readied itself on her waist. Dark handprints of your sooty grip still remained there as well, but you knew that they wouldn't be there much long, not with the sweat you'd coax from her soon.

By the time your right hand found itself clutching the flesh of her asscheek, you were as hard as your left hand. Winry's young pussy took a more delectable appearance at this angle, especially when your hand parted the fleshy curtain of her ass, letting yet more strings of cum drip from the pinkness of her eager folds.

And in no time at all your cockhead was wedged inside those folds.

Both of you let out a mutual groan at the reentry. It wasn't as torturous as the first time, thank God, but it was still snug. You push yourself almost to the hilt, then pulled back before repeating it, and thankfully, a consistent cycle of your hips was found much quicker this time.

Your hands grasped onto her hips as tightly as they did before now. You felt your cockhead scrape out whatever was left of your previous load, hearing sticky splatters of goop hit the floor. Soon the only sounds that concerned you as you continued, growing faster, growing bolder, was the sound of her youthful, girlish mewls as your cock sawed in and in and in, and the sound of her tight ass, smacking in satisfyingly wet kisses against your crotch.

Unlike the first session, you truly let loose. Within the first few minutes the pace was already growing feverish. You enjoyed seeing Winry's composure crumble, watching as she let her head droop forward while you rocked the pliable softness of her teenage body into the hardness of your agetested worktable. Her ponytail wildly flailed and flew about in a sweaty bundle of gold, unpredictable as the uncontrolled pitch of her moans and occasional squeals.

You bit your lip as you drank in every lascivious detail of this girl's ripe body being plundered by your cock. It never would have occurred to you that you'd ever be in this position, be fucking the town's new apprentice, hips smashing into her tight little rump over and over, stuffing her with your girth with wanton abandon.

She came quicker than before, squirting as she arched upward, howling in bliss as your pace didn't relent for a single second, her flesh still smashing against yours regardless of how she convulsed, how her inner flesh rippled in hot, coaxing waves.

You grew more and more entranced as the rough sex continued, particularly in how the flesh of her ass rippled in perfect little waves every time you would heave your hips forward, taking her breath away with every hard fleshy impact.

But what fascinated you more was just how much she enjoyed the touch of your automail against her skin. Most...well, _all_ the women you've been with had found the cold chrome of your mentor's handiwork a nuisance, even if they never said so. You'd always prop it against the headboard as you drove into them from above, or clench it into the sheets lest they'd feel it against their skin.

But Winry, she _loved_ it. You knew it from the way her body would relax every time you ran that chrome up and down her side, how her hips would enthusiastically drive themselves back when you would squeeze her waist with your metal fingers, how she would squeal and gasp in breathless abandon when you would smack that tight ass of hers with your automail, squeezing her reddened cheek as she would devolve into yet another chain of knee-wobbling orgasms.

She would cum again and again, and you heard her voice crack when your began truly _driving_ into her needy little snatch, pushing all of your weight into stuffing Winry with all you could manage.

Your balls smacked against her skin in rough slaps, and sweat began to fly between your crotches. You wanted to cum. You wanted to fill up this girl's belly with your hot spunk again, so you could watch it spill out onto her legs before you'd plunge in and do it all over and over and over.

Your eyes bore into Winry's glistening back, trails of leftover black streaming down the curve as her ponytail continued to bob up and down and left and right and side to side. You continued to rut her, stuff her like it was the last night of your life, and your body fell forward in your efforts, your mouth biting hard into her shoulder as you felt your groin clench and grow hot. Winry came hard around your cock again, shivering and her throat choking on air as she started groaning your name again in elongated heaves.

In this proximity your chest slickly glided across her back again and again, and you felt her thighs wetly smack against the edge of the worktable. Your hands found themselves on her breasts while your tongue continued to lather her sweaty skin.

Then,

" _Fuck me, oh yes, yes,_ _ **yes, fuck me!**_ "

In everything you've done tonight, this was the first time Winry had cursed.

Just an hour or two ago, she was a sweet young small town sweetheart engrossed in the fine tuning and upgrade of your automail arm.

And now, here she was, naked sans the boots on her little feet, bent over your dirty old workstation, being rutted into oblivion, screaming your name and curses like an experienced whore, driving her hips back into yours as if this wasn't her first rodeo.

She truly was a quick learner, something more than likely attributed to the enthusiasm that bubbled in her eyes, bristled in on her sweaty skin, pulsed in the fiery wet pocket of her tight cunt.

But one thing was for sure now, as you drove into her in a few last heaves, pushing the entirety of her small frame into the firmness of the table as you bit down as hard as you could into her neck, curling your toes while your balls clenched and the first few shots of cum shoot straight into the depths of her thirsty womb:

She wasn't feeling lonely anymore. Not with you here. Not with you inside of her like this, with your hot lust pumping deep into her guts.

Again, you had to squeeze your eyes shut. You had Winry's body around your arms in a tight bear hug as her ass wiggled into your small pathetic little thrusts. You could feel the tension of your groin unravel and transmute into the thick goopy ropes that were shooting into Winry's pussy. Every shot took your breath away, every spurt of steaming spunk making your skin that much more sensitive to the softness of Winry's young vulnerable curves.

Time slowed as your climax continued, and other than your ragged breaths, Winry's hiccuping attempts to breathe, the only sound in the room was the lewd spurting of cum squeezed out from between the space of your cock and her squeezing inner flesh, tumbling out in syrupy globs like thick white jam.

Eventually your cock's vigorous pulsing would cease after a few last spurts, and you were left with silence. Your breath stabilized, and in your wet embrace with Winry's body, you felt hers steady as well. You were only left with the steady but excited booming of your pulse against her naked back. You listened closely and you could hear hers pitter back at you, quicker, more haphazard.

There was another squelch and another subsequent wet slopping sound of spunk spilling from between her legs as you withdrew.

You asked if she was okay, but you knew the answer the minute she turned around, still full of energy, and eyes only looking a little bit more weary than when the night first started.

She glowed, practically glowed as she stood there, confident as ever. And when she tiptoed up to kiss you, you realized you've been labeling her wrong this entire time: Winry was no girl. She was nothing less than a woman, always was.

Of course, the way her body squirmed against yours revitalized your seemingly-endless libido, but fortunately, woman as she was, Winry was still very much a hormonal teenager, and she was more than eager to accommodate you.

You then found yourself in the very same position that were at the beginning, seated firmly on the edge of your cot.

Key difference being that now, Winry was straddling your lap, kicking off her boots and peeling off her socks as her left hand lazily stroked your cock back into full attention. After she tossed the last of the her socks onto the ground, Winry bit her lip, and with your hands on her hips yet again, prepared herself to be stretched by you once more.

As if you were old lovers, this third reentry was swift, and done with ease. In this new position it was easy to find access to her lips, and soon enough you coaxed moans from her throat as you thrust up into her still-eager core.

She withdrew from you as she started rolling her hips in response. As pleasurable as it was, you asked her with a bit of concern if she really was still up for more. Winry giggled.

"I'd worry more about yourself, mister. I'm used to allnighters," she said, lifting her arms above her head and undoing her ponytail. She whipped her head about, freeing her tousled blonde, letting it flow freely down her back and over her shoulders. She leaned in close to your ear, pressing her chest against your skin. "Besides, that new and improved arm of yours still needs just a few more test runs."

The cot began to squeak louder as you responded with a few hard thrusts.

You couldn't agree more.


End file.
